Freewrite
by OjoOtaku
Summary: Scenario: Yumi and Ulrich are in the same Creative Literature class, and are assigned freewrites. Setup: They divulge personal information in said freewrites. Problem: The freewrites get mixed up. What will these secretive lovebirds do? (One-shot)


**A/N) Oh, the memories come sweeping back... n,n  
Hiya! I'm OjoOtaku, formally known as YumiBelle. (Long story). But that's not the point... The moment I found out about _Evolution_, I flipped a biscuit! I was PUMPED... and I have not been happier. ^o^ So, in honor of Evolution, I've decided on a one-shot.  
This may or may not be sufficient or awesome or justifiably... 'good,' but I think it's decent. At least... I hope so. _ Anyways, please enjoy. b,b**

…**... ….. …... ….. …...**

Yumi was in her favorite class, Creative Literature. Not only was it a fun course, but she had it with Ulrich, who just happened to sit right next to her. **(A/N Gee, what a coincidence...)**

"Okay, class, take out a sheet of paper, to be turned in, title it 'freewriting,'" The instructor, Mr. Barowen, told the class. "_What is freewriting? _You all will ask. So I'll answer. To _freewrite_ is to get all of ones thoughts and ideas at the moment down on paper. I'll time all of you for five minutes, and in doing so, you must write _anything_ that is on your mind during those five minutes down. For example," The instructor grabbed a piece of paper that was sitting on his desk, "This is an example of a freewrite I did earlier, in five minutes: _I am writing right now. I am still writing, and right now I am still writing. The time says that I still have almost five whole minutes to go... This is much harder than I first thought. Thought, thought, thought, There is a bird on the windowsill. He is blue. Though it might be a girl. I shouldn't be sexist and automatically assume it's not a girl. Girl, girl, girl, girl, I had pancakes and coffee this morning. The coffee I bought from the machine in the courtyard. It was really good coffee, as usual. I always get coffee from that machine. Have you ever noticed that time goes really slow when you need to get something done. Done, done, done, why can't I think? This is really annoying, I hope the timer goes off soon. The bird just flew away. I hope it finds its family. What if it doesn't have a family. I think I still have papers to grade. Grade, grade, The ink is blue..._" Mr. Barowen paused, indicating he was finished with reading from the paper. "Now, who can tell what was special about this particular form of writing?"  
A few students rose their hands.

"Yes, Emily?" The teacher called.  
"You kept repeating random words, and there wasn't a general topic," Emily pointed out.  
"Exactly!" Mr. Barowen pointed to Emily in excitement. "Good job, Em," He sat on his desk. "Now, this activity is really simple. All you have to do is write exactly what is on your mind for five whole minutes. The catch- you can't stop, and you can't correct mistakes. Thus, why I ended up repeating words a lot of times, and why some sentences are oddly formed. When the timer goes off, pencils go down. Easy as that. Questions?" When no one replied, Mr. Barowen set the timer and the students began to effortlessly write away.

Well, most of them effortlessly, some struggled.

Yumi was one of those students. She was horrible (Horrible: [adjective] a. causing or likely to cause horror; shocking. b. very unpleasant. Synonyms: Terrible, dreadful, awful, frightful, gruesome) while working under pressure; thus resulting in a less than mediocre paper. And if Mr. Barowen were to see it, he would laugh at her.

Wait, Mr. Barowen IS going to see it!

She couldn't wait for the time to end, this was torture, constantly scribbling down subconscious thoughts and delusions, including what was most likely her deepest feelings and opinions.

Then, in what was probably mid-sentence, the timer went off, and she could feel the sigh of relief that escalated through the classroom.

"Well, that wasn't so bad, now was it?" Mr. Barowen chirped sarcastically as he stood from his desk. The students groaned at the comment, as the teacher himself chuckled a bit. "Now now, it couldn't have been _that _bad. Now, pass them up the rows," The students did as such, then awaited more instructions. "Okay, now, everyone, take out your notebooks and get ready for some notes about writing novellas."

.

The following day, in the same class, Mr. Barowen lectured more about 'the beauty of novellas.' He went on to spiel about how intricate the writing process should be for such work, then gave plenty of examples that the students had 'most likely' read in the past, of novellas (which included _A Clockwork Orange, The Call of The Wild, _and _The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_). He soon assigned the quarter assignment: for each student to partner up and the groups to write a novella.

"Class, pick your partners, and get working. By the end of the period I want a story map filled out," Mr. Barowen instructed. "To be approved."

"Yumes, ya wanna be my partner?" Ulrich asked to his longtime friend.

"Absolutely," The girl smiled to the brunette boy next to her. "Sounds like fun."

The two pushed their desks together and began to scribble down potential ideas for their novella. Eventually, the two had somehow pondered across the idea of a steam-punk science fiction about a clock maker in Victorian England with strange devices.

**(A/N Yes, I 'stole' the plot of **_**Infernal Devices**_** by K.W. Jeter. It's a REALLY good book. And I was too lazy to think of a steam-punk sci-fi off the top of my head. Plus I love the book. O.o JUST READ)**

When there was only a few minutes left of class, Mr. Barowen handed back the previous days assignments.

"I definitely enjoyed reading these," He narrated, holding a stack of papers in his hands, "They mustered up quite a laugh; I had no idea so many of you were so, what's the word, closed-minded."  
The class murmured at the accusation.  
"I expected that. Though a lot of the freewrites held repetition, I found what wasn't repetitive very creative. I just need to unblock that, well, block. So, every day, starting tomorrow, the first five minutes of class will be freewriting. But I think I'll deduce the time down to three minutes to really let the creativeness, flow," He paused, staring into the sea of faces that was his class. "Now, come get your papers." He set the sheets down on the desk behind him, spreading them out in a disorderly fashion, followed by his class releasing themselves at the sound of the bell, them all grabbing their own paper as they left.

- - … … …

In the courtyard, Yumi held the claimed paper in her hand as her and Ulrich walked towards the cafeteria.

"I hate these freewriting things," Yumi groaned, almost crumpling the paper in her hand.  
"I think they're kinda cool," Ulrich shrugged, folding his paper and slipping it into his pocket. "I mean, it's a fun way to get all your thoughts down on paper."

"But they're hard," Yumi whined, "and stupid."  
Ulrich chuckled at her immaturity, and the two sat down on a bench and waited for the others before all going to lunch. "So, we're going to need a title for our little story," Ulrich spoke up.  
"Novella," Yumi corrected. If there was one thing she was good at in Creative Literature, it was the vocabulary.

"Whatever," Ulrich, on the other hand, could care less. "So, I was thinking."  
"Oh boy."  
"Ha ha."  
"Go on," Yumi chuckled, then proceeded to fold the piece of paper she was still holding and slip it into her notebook.

"I was thinking of something that fits the time period, but still fits the theme," Ulrich narrated, doodling on the cover of the notebook for the said class.  
"What _exactly _were you thinking, oh creative one," Yumi mocked to him.  
Ulrich stared at her, "you know, you're not very funny."  
She smiled at the comment, "come on, ideas."  
"Okay," he started, "how about 'The Forsaken Time-teller?" Ulrich announced his idea in an over-exaggerated 'movie announcer' voice.

Yumi stifled her laugh, "how about something good?"

"Okay, so that one wasn't my best. I wrote more down in here," Ulrich gestured to the notepad in his lap.

"Well, a title isn't all that we need to be concerned about," Yumi added to him. She pointed to her own notebook and added, "in here I've written down possible plot plans."  
"We make a great team," Ulrich grinned. "How about we switch notebooks for the night and tomorrow, same class, we'll switch back. Give feedback on each other's ideas."

"I like it," Yumi smiled, handing over her notebook to Ulrich, as he did the same. "Have you seen the others?"  
"No, now that you mention it, I haven't," Ulrich replied, looking around.  
"They probably went in without us," Yumi sighed, standing up.  
"Typical Odd, can't control his stomach."

... …. …. ….

That night, Ulrich was doing his homework at his desk. As he finished up his History assignment, he grabbed Yumi's Creative Literature journal and sifted through the pages, glancing at random notes from the previous lessons. He came across the notes from this week, and read over the few pages she had neatly organized about novellas and all about their story. He turned a few pages and noted a paper protruding from a page not far from where he currently was. He slid the neatly folded- though slightly crumpled- piece of paper and unfolded it for him to read; and upon discovering it being Yumi's freewrite exercise from yesterday, his curiosity had piqued.

… …

… …

Meanwhile, after supper and washing the few dishes, Yumi made her way up to her room to complete her homework. She'd finished some of it earlier, and only had a few subjects left to complete. Deciding to save Statistics for later, she grabbed the notebook she'd claimed from Ulrich earlier that afternoon and sat on her bed. She flipped through the pages and began to decipher his messy handwriting, and soon came upon a page that struck her attention more than the story's title.

Apparently, Ulrich had taken it upon himself to jot down a few notes on freewriting.  
And at that very moment, Yumi remembered where her freewrite from yesterday was.

"Oh shit."

#.# #.# #.#

Figuring it couldn't be _that_ bad, Ulrich decided to read what Yumi had written down in those tense five minutes.

And, to make the moment more fun, he decided to recite them out loud. Figuring he was alone in the room since Odd was on _another_ date, he had nothing to lose on making a fool of himself.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat, mostly for emphasis, and began to recite the neatly scribbled words on the paper in his hands, "_**Oh... Boy. Okay. I have no idea what to write. I'll just write random sentences. That works. That's basically what's going through my head. Head head head head head head. OH MY GOD WHY CANT I THINK? Okay, just relax. relax. relax relax relax. Okay, Mr. B's going to think you're an idiot, no problem. Yes, problem! Big big big big big big big big problem! Problems. Boy, do I have a lot of those. Like, Ulrich**__._" He paused for a second. "Wow, she thinks about me," he then continued,"_**Boy, He's something else. I wish I could tell him how I feel about him, maybe then he would stop being so weird**__._ What does she mean?" He paused again, partially freaking out. He almost didn't want to read the rest of the paper. Alas, he continued, though, quietly to himself rather than out loud to nobody._ "__**But he's not weird he's absolutely perfect in every way. I love him.**_ What?_** I can't think of anyone else, ever. When I freak out and panic, my brain automatically goes to him. That's not weird, is it? Oh boy. Is the time up yet?**_" Ulrich breathed_**, **_setting the paper down on the desk in front of him.

"Oh boy," He whispered to himself. "She, likes me?"  
He looked back down to the paper, "she thinks I'm perfect? Does she mean all that? Does she really love me?" His mind wandered for a moment, then snapped back to reality.  
"I was never supposed to see this."

. . . . . . . . .

After having what she self-diagnosed as a panic attack, Yumi grabbed her cell phone and called Ulrich, praying he hadn't discovered the paper yet. She panicked as the phone rang on and on, pacing back and forth throughout her room.

"Please, please, please," she whispered to herself.

… … …

Ulrich, pacing his own room in a flurry of thoughts, heard his phone ring from his desk. Sighing, he made his way to the device and picked it up, lacking to look at who was on the other end.

"Hello?" He wondered, slightly impatient.

"_Ulrich,"_ Yumi was finally glad that the prolonged ringing had ceased, "_hi."_

"Um, hey," Ulrich swallowed. Of all the people in the world, Yumi was the last person he wanted to talk to. "What's up?"  
_"I was just seeing if you had any comments on my notes?"_ Yumi asked, slightly nervous. She was trying her best not to freak out, but she couldn't help it.

Ulrich froze. Should he tell her? He didn't exactly have an immediate response. He sighed, realizing he'd been silent for almost thirty seconds. "Um, yeah. They were, helpful. I can't really talk right now, bye," was the most rational response he could think of at the moment, and he proceeded to set his phone down on the desk again.

"What am I going to do?"

… … …

"Damn it," Yumi swore, setting her phone onto her bed. She paced around her room again, planning out every possible scenario- from start to finish- in her head. Some were reasonable- Ulrich read her notes, found the freewrite, began to read it, but couldn't decipher her (what she thought was) messy handwriting, and Odd was bugging him, so he couldn't talk any longer. Some were completely and utterly impossible- Ulrich found the freewrite and read it, and he feels the exact same way, and he's merely planning out how he plans to tell her tomorrow morning when they see each other, and they'll profess their unrequited love aloud, and they'll get married and have three kids and a house and a dog named Murray. And some were spot-on- Ulrich found and read the freewrite, and now he's panicking.  
By this point, she'd been mindlessly pacing her room for almost an hour, rambling on and on to herself about possible marriages, apothecaries, or the possibility of having to transfer schools.

"I can't believe this is happening!" She yelled, unintentionally of course, and flopped down onto her bed and screamed into her pillow.

"Yumi, go to bed!" Her mother ordered from the neighboring room.

_Tomorrow's going to be a long day,_ She thought to herself.

… … …

The next morning, Ulrich found himself in the cafeteria, mindlessly poking at his breakfast with a fork. Odd was rambling on about his date from the night before, but the brunette had droned most of it out.

"Ulrich?" Odd called out for the third time.  
"What?" Ulrich looked up from his plate to the blonde.  
A smirk crawled onto the boy's face, "what were you thinking about?"  
"No one."  
"Yumi, weren't you?" Odd concluded.  
Ulrich glared. "So what if I was. What's it to you?"  
"Nothing, nothing at all," Odd rose his hands in defense. "But why are you so ornery this morning?"  
"Drop it, Odd!" Ulrich rose his voice a few notches, just as Jeremie and Aelita came to sit at the table.  
"What's got him this time?" Aelita asked.

"I'll give you a hint," Odd smiled, "It starts with _Y_ and with _gloomy._"

"Yumi," Jeremie and Aelita chimed simultaneously.

"Shut up. I'm going outside," Ulrich stood up and left the cafeteria.

On his way out the door, he bumped into the last person he wanted to talk to.

"Hi Yumi," he pretended to sound somewhat excited to see her.

She was just as uncomfortable, "Umm, hey. I have to go," she stammered and walked the opposite direction, towards the class she was heading to.

Ulrich slumped down onto a bench, thinking about what to say to Yumi. He could lie to her, tell her he never read it. But he couldn't keep a secret like that from Yumi; not for long, at least. He knew there was only one thing to do, and that was to tell her the truth.

But how?  
With a heavy sigh escaping his lips, he stood up and reached into his pockets, beginning to walk to his first class. He stopped walking when he realized he was wearing the same jeans he'd been wearing the day before and pulled out his own freewrite from Mr. Barowen's class. He unfolded the paper and began to read the messy scribbles in front of him.

_I really like stuff. And I kinda like drawing. But I'm not as good as, per say, Odd. I mean, Odd is amazing at drawing. I'm mediocre. I think it runs in his family. I guess that makes sense. I'm pretty sure his parents are like, fancy artsy people. Or... I don't know. Know Know. I know a lot of things about stuff. Stuff is cool. This morning I had a croissant for breakfast. I liked it. Yumi tried to steal it from me, but I didn't let her. I probably should have, though. Boyfriend's do those kinds of things. But I'm not Yumi's Boyfriend. I'm just a boy, and her friend. I think. It's complicated. The last book I read was To Kill A Mockingbird and it was SO good, but so so so slow. It took me almost three weeks to finish it , when normally I can finish a book in like, a week, tops. I want to listen to music. I want to start a band. Will you start a band with me? Who am I talking to? Are you real? Or are you fake? Are you a figment of my imagination? I think I play too many video games. That's Odd's fault. Everything is Odd's fault. I like hot chocolate in the morning because it's really good. Dinosaurs-_

He refolded the paper and put it back in his pocket, thinking about how this could help him. _ But I'm not Yumi's Boyfriend. I'm just a boy, and her friend. I think. It's complicated._ Why was it complicated?

Why couldn't it be easy?

-.-.-.-

Yumi scribbled notes through Statistics, and barely paid attention in French Literature. The only thing that was on her mind was Ulrich.

_Did he read it? What if he didn't? What if he did? Why can't I just relax?_

She walked out of her Chemistry class, and towards the cafeteria, her mind racing the entire time.

Before she could enter the door to her destination, someone pulled her wrist.

"You're just who I was looking for," Ulrich told her, still holding her arm.  
"Ulrich? What, what're you doing?" Yumi wondered, confused and embarrassed.  
"I want you to read this," Ulrich handed her a piece of folded notebook paper.

"What is this?" She asked, unfolding the loose leaf paper.

"Just read it." Ulrich insisted.

She looked down to the paper she was holding, and realized she was reading her own freewrite.  
"Ulrich! Did you read this?" She asked, already knowing the answer.  
Ulrich nodded shamefully, "keep reading."

Once she finished rereading her own freewrite, she realized that there was more written on the paper.

Ulrich's freewrite.  
"You like stuff?" She looked up to the brunette, who was staring at his feet. She looked back to the paper and read the rest of the paragraph.

Then she read it again.

And again.

"Ulrich, I," her voice drifted from her throat.  
He gave a sheepish smile. He grabbed the paper from her hand and crinkled it up in his hand, then stuffed it back into his pocket. He reached around the small of her back and pulled her to him, then placed a gentle kiss onto her lips.  
Her eyes widened, but she relaxed into the kiss, pulling herself closer to him, letting the moment last.

A few seconds later, he pulled away, then wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "So, I was thinking."  
"Oh boy," Yumi joked, a smile from cheek to cheek on her face.  
"Ha ha."  
"Go on."  
"Dark Watchwork," Ulrich smiled, handing Yumi back her Creative Literature notebook.

"Ulrich," Yumi grabbed the spiral from his hand as the two walked into the cafeteria, "I think I could get used to those freewrites."

._._.

**A/N) Bleh... okay. That was it. I guess. Review? Please? I'd appreciate it!**


End file.
